most of her pieces, to try to get the
She goes for an innocent image on
s speaks of a way to see life,
Thi
it.
do
to
try
l
wil
e
Sh
.
life
of
e
positive sid
her
rker feelings that may get close to
also. We can see that instead of da
kes the shadows go. At least,
ma
t
tha
sun
the
be
l
wil
she
life
in her daily
ces.
that’s what she projects in her pie
e, and *Solocosmo is not the
sid
rk
da
ir
the
s
ha
ne
ryo
eve
Anyway,
stly
pieces, that mixed with her mo
exception. She has some dark
of completeness. She must
g
lin
fee
a
ry
lle
ga
her
es
giv
,
ces
positive pie
to recreate them, the difference is
know both sides of life, to be able
at is more important. The glass
the way that we look and decide wh
half full, or half empty.
ength as the nice ones, or
Her dark pieces have the same str
than the positive
even more; while they are less
we can say. They
pieces, they have more feeling, if
ewire or mania, we
are more thought, and on roots, liv
, and how they are
can see that the elements added
us feel something.
put on the scene, are done to make
see, and I am
We must have a reaction to what we
she gets that
very sure that most of the times,
is a shame that
reaction. Lastly, I must say that it
overlooked, by
most of her positive pieces are
are not that
the dark ones; as the nice thoughts
but the pieces
famous as their evil counterparts,
are as good as the others.
ment of their
I would love for people to take a mo
gallery, as
time, and look very carefully at her
she deserves a very good look.”

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Article by: Windmaker

/ Text Editor: RoČ&#x2122;u Miruna

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is a simple, fast, ec

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conomic solution to enhance your photos

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y earliest memory is of seeing a ghost. It was early morning; no one
else was awake yet, but the sun was shining and I wanted to be up
and playing. My cousins had spent the night, and I couldn’t wait for
them to wake up and play. So I thought I’d go get them up myself.
At the time, my brother had a bunk-bed. One of the cousins was on
the top bunk, and he was on the bottom. The door was open, but at the last minute I felt
chicken about waking them up. I hovered on the doorstep, just watching them.
That’s when I noticed the third little boy.
He was cuddled up next to my brother on the bottom bunk. He wasn’t
under the covers; I could see his long white nightgown. He had
longish blond hair, illuminated by the morning sun so that it
almost glowed. His cheeks were chubby, and he was smiling in
his sleep, just a little. I wasn’t scared. I just went back to my
room and let them sleep.
My brother didn’t remember the little boy who was
sleeping next to him that morning. I think that’s why I
didn’t tell anyone for so long. Then one evening, when
I was in high school, my parents were telling me
spooky rumors about ghosts in the neighborhood.
Casually, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t that
big of a deal, and maybe I had just imagined it, I
mentioned seeing the little boy. My parents
got very quiet. As it turns out, I wasn’t the first
person to see him. In fact, he had a very
long history. My grandmother had felt him
crawl in bed with her on two separate
occasions. Nervous guests had asked
about the little boy who bothered them
in the night for years. A tenant’s little girl
had actually played with him. Even now,
from time to time, someone will ask why
one of the boys crawled in bed with them.
My cousin was the latest.